Blue
by Doctor Whiteface
Summary: What would happen if a few tiny things changed in the world? Let's find out.
1. Chapter 1: Blue and Gold

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership over the IP or associated articles of such contained within this fanfiction. This is a work of fiction, and any characters or events that resemble persons or events, living or dead, current or previous, are either coincidental or are intended in a parodic or satirical fashion.

**A/N:** Lots of love to my amazing beta reader, Ziggygebs777. His stories are cool, if not exactly door-stoppers :3

**Blue**

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**Chapter 1, Part 1: Blue**

My name is Grimmjow Jaegerjack, and I have been through hell. I started out a Hollow, powerful even back then as I easily ascended through the hierarchy of power, my body becoming smaller and more concentrated in its ability over time as I consumed opponents too weak to bite into my flesh. I met others like me, and through combat and feeding gained their power. My name was known through the area, and I fancied myself without peer. Then I fell, and to the hands of an old man nonetheless. Some geezer sitting on his throne, barely worthy of my consideration if not for his massive power.

He defeated me easily, and for a time I was the unwilling vassal of Barragan Rizenbarn, held in check only by the constant threat of destruction if I deviated from his iron command. It was humiliating, and even then I resolved that I would never bend knee to another Hollow again. My servitude lasted for longer than I care to remember, but in time Barragan himself fell to a newcomer, a Shinigami. Lord Aizen and his fellow Shinigami marked the end of my service to Barragan with their arrival, though for a time I went unrecognized among the newly-created Arrancar.

The process of Shinigamification was agonizing, a feeling like having part of my organs ripped away from me, and I was glad once it ended that I wouldn't feel such a sensation every time I released my _Pantera_. The separation left me incomplete, though, a feeling of irritation always in the back of my head unless I had my sword unsheathed. I became angry, reckless, the hotheaded Numeros (and, in good time, Espada). I wasn't the top predator in the pack by any stretch of the imagination, but under Lord Aizen I was afforded more power and autonomy than Barragan would ever have dreamed of giving me. And then came the mission to the human world.

It was supposed to be simple. Get in, find and kill a few humans that had caused Yammy some tiny amount of trouble, and get out again. We didn't expect to find a Shinigami, let alone one so powerful. Looking back now, I can see easily where Lord Aizen would have known that Kurosaki was there, but back then it seemed to be just one strange mistake among a fiasco. I lost my arm and my position as a consequence of the mission, and though in time I had the girl restore both of them to me I knew that I was still seen as a disgraced _Privaron_ that Lord Aizen had decided to let back into the ranks. The only chance at proving my strength again, so far as I saw it, was to kill the Shinigami that had tarnished that perception in the first place.

I lost again, and all but died. It took me days to wake up, I think, and when I did it was painfully obvious that I wasn't as strong as before. _Pantera_ was ruined, and even with my natural healing and the regular infusions of reishi I gained from eating weaker Hollows it took me the better part of two months to properly heal. I gained an appreciation in the process for my own mortality, and my outlook on life has somewhat changed as a result of my experiences. I'm calmer now, less prone to fits of rage and displays of temper.

Recently, a rumor has reached me from the few Fraccion that remained active in Las Noches after Aizen left. Barragan is dead, rather than hiding. I suspected as such, since his throne sat empty for so long, but I never thought that I would find out who managed to kill him. I'll have to find this Soi-Fong and make her pay for depriving me of the revenge I was due for my humiliation. First, though, I feel hunger pains. I'll need to find a Menos somewhere.

As I exit the former stronghold of Las Noches, now being reclaimed by the sand, I notice a winged shape in the distance. Ulquiorra Schiffer, my fellow Arrancar and the only other survivor of Lord Aizen's ill-planned invasion that I've found in Las Noches, apparently has the same hunger pangs that I do. I turn to walk in a different direction, not wanting to get in his way. He's become more savage since his return, and civil conversation is a burden at the best of times.

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**Chapter 1, Part 2: Gold**

My name is Soi-Fong (Shaolin Fong in the long form, though it's seldom used except on paperwork), and I've explained my story to people often enough that pretty much everyone knows it, though there are always embellishments and exaggerations that creep in. My supposed infatuation with Lady Yoruichi, for example. One could as accurately claim knowledge of my sexual attraction to my own mother. No, I'm not remotely attracted to my mother. I admit, there are... dalliances I've had in the past, but always with men and always discreet. You'll never guess who, and I'll never tell, so we can stop that line of questioning there.

I rise from my seat and perform the same routine that I have for the past seventeen months, flexing my repaired arm and working it out more strenuously than my 'original' arm during my morning workout in an attempt to even up my muscle tone again. Despite the 4th Division's work on repairing my body, I still feel the difference some mornings.

After the noon bells ring, I pause in my exercises and wind down, my expression changing from one of concentration to one of introspection as I think back on events. Lieutenant Sasakibe was killed yesterday, though how and by whom isn't known. No-one was seen entering his room, nor was any method of entering or leaving the Soul Society detected by my men or the Science Division's sensors. His assassination remains a mystery, though one I hope to solve after his funeral.

I get myself dressed in formal robes, my haori over my shoulders as I walk towards the 1st Division. There are few Shinigami out at this time of the day, most either hard at work or on the patrol for the assassin or assassins who killed Chojiro. All the current Captains are in attendance at the funeral, though, and the short service begins once I take my place.

After Lieutenant Sasakibe's remains are laid to rest, I walk back towards my Division to get started on afternoon paperwork, only to have Captain Zaraki fall in step with me. We exchange pleasantries for a few very brief moments before he declares his intent to send me to the Medical Corps on a stretcher in the near future. This usual declaration draws a thin smile from me, and I resolve to stay on my guard for when he comes by for our irregular sparring session.

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**A/N: **This first chapter should be the _only_ chapter written in first-person present tense, though I may switch over to it in a later chapter if this gets long enough. Please R&R, your reviews are my brain-food!


	2. Chapter 2: Scheherazade

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership over the IP or associated articles of such contained within this fanfiction. This is a work of fiction, and any characters or events that resemble persons or events, living or dead, current or previous, are either coincidental or are intended in a parodic or satirical fashion.

**A/N:** Lots of love to my amazing beta readers, Ziggygebs777 and TwilightWalker. Zig's stories are cool, if not exactly door-stoppers, and Twi's an amazing beta reader, roleplayer, DM, and general guy all 'round. :3

**Blue**

**Chapter 2, Part 1: Blue Hunting**

Grimmjow waited patiently, having eaten his fill and more. He idly toyed with the finger bones of the Menos he'd eaten, picking one of them up at a time and spinning on his own axis to kick them towards the small copse in the distance. Each flying bone accurately hit a tree, usually knocking it down, though the few that didn't fall still teetered precariously with severe damage to the trunk. He'd sensed the one he was supposed to meet an hour before, but she was still making a leisurely trek across the sands in lieu of her usual swift gait. It took her another twenty minutes to arrive, and in that time Grimmjow ran out of bones and started to move through a few attack patterns with a phantom opponent, concentrating his rage into a fine point and attacking with it. He was in the middle of a pattern when the woman arrived, his sword stopping a fraction of an inch from her neck, a few pale green hairs falling to the desert sand. "Neliel," he said calmly as he sheathed his sword, the battle-fury snapping off instantly. "You took your sweet time."

"Yes," said the former Tercera. "I'm curious why you wanted to talk all the way out here, Grimmjow. It isn't as if anyone in Las Noches cares what anyone else does."

Grimmjow nodded again, his hand resting lightly on his hip. "I know, but I'd still rather things not get around. There are a few things that are still... hot-button issues, you know?"

He continued after she nodded her acknowledgement of his statement. "An attack on the Seireitei, for instance," he said, and immediately moved to block her as she tried to move away. "No, Neliel! This is why I wanted to talk out here. Hear me out, mm?"

Slowly, and with a good deal of caution, Nel tilted her head and nodded at him to continue. A quiet sigh of relief preceded his continuing, though neither Espada missed the way his fingers relaxed on the hilt of _Pantera_."I've been on a trip to the very outer edges of their 'Soul Society,' and I know of a way to draw a specific one of them out. I want to deal with her alone."

Nel stared at him for a moment, wondering why he was telling her this if he intended to go alone. She nodded, though, waiting for him to continue. "That said," he said, running his fingers through his hair, "I know I'm not exactly invincible. Ulquiorra wouldn't jump in to save me in a pinch if his own life depended on it, he isn't the type to go along with what I've got in mind. Rudobon would probably jump in with me and fuck everything up by adding himself to the eyewitness accounts, and Tia's been away for... what, three weeks now? You're the only other person I trust as far as I can throw."

Though Nel was well aware that she was one of the better-liked of the surviving Arrancar, the thought that Grimmjow trusted her enough to compare her to Ulquiorra was... somewhat disconcerting. The two men had all but literally nursed each other back to health, and had apparently picked up aspects of each other's personalities along the way. Still, it wasn't like she had anything else to do. Pesche and Dondochakka had gone off somewhere two days ago and still not returned. "So in other words you want me there to keep you safe."

Grimmjow nodded, and that was another unnerving thing now. He was... quiet. No less angry or competitive than before, but it was more contained and infinitely more intense. If Ulquiorra had picked up Grimmjow's snark then the former Sexta had picked up Ulquiorra's focus at the same time. He might get frustrated about things, even as angry as he used to, but he poured all of it now into "Exactly. Shall we?"

Neliel nodded and followed him through the Garganta after it opened. Neither of them noticed the white-garbed man in the copse of trees that Grimmjow had demolished, though he certainly noticed them. Ulquiorra Schiffer sighed tolerantly after Grimmjow left. The blue-haired Arrancar was the closest thing he had to a friend among their own kind, and he was loathe to consider the prospect of Grimmjow's possible death. He opened his own _Garganta_ and stepped through, following their own reiatsu from a safe distance so that he wouldn't be noticed. The last thing he needed was Nel or Grimmjow to detect his presence and confront him about it.

To his credit, he would have likely succeeded had anyone but Neliel tu Odershvank been accompanying Grimmjow. She had an almost disturbing level of skill at reading reiatsu levels and locations, and turned to stare in his direction the moment the Garganta closed. "I know you're there, Ulquiorra," she called out. "We might as well use a single vantage point to look in on... whatever he's doing," she explained as he approached her, the tiniest hint of a pale blush high on his bone-white cheeks.

'Whatever he's doing' turned out to be watching. Just watching, and nothing else. For hours, in fact, concealed in a tree while waiting for her to be alone. She was with someone or another the entire day, spending a good deal of the day fighting with the massive Kenpachi man in the 2nd Division courtyard. Grimmjow frowned as he noticed the sun setting, knowing that he'd need to sleep before too long, and resolved to take a different sort of revenge. A bit more drawn out, yes, but in the end all the sweeter for the artistry he'd put into it.

He fished a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket and scribbled down a note and a map, signing it with an inane little nickname, a play on his own surname.

_Captain,_

_ I would be most grateful if you could meet me in the human world in two days' time at these coordinates. I believe we have some things to talk about. You will not regret your time spent pursuing this endeavor if you wish to do so, and will at least get a free lunch if nothing else. Arrive around noon and mention "Jack." You should be taken to the proper table._

_ Yours cordially,_

_ The Hunter_

Having thus written his proposal, and hopefully set his plans into motion, he waited for one of her guards to leave before sneaking into her bedroom through the window, placing the note on her futon, and leaving again, grinning to Neliel and hardly minding Ulquiorra's presence as he went through the Garganta and then opened a second to the human world. He'd have a job persuading the crazy blonde to make him a Gigai, but if he couldn't... well, there was always improvisation.

**Chapter 2, Part 2: Gold's Discovery**

Captain Soi-Fong looked over the note again, puzzling at it. She'd found it folded neatly on her pillow without a trace of reiatsu or any reports from the guards of anyone entering or leaving. It was a map pointing to a little restaurant on the American east coast, a Bostonian cafe near the wharfs that she'd seen once while on a mission. Now, two days later, she was still mulling over whether to go through with the strange request even as she opened the bamboo door between the worlds and stepped out into Boston, her gigai translating the English into her native tongue so that she would innately understand everything. It had taken an age to convince Commander Yamamoto to let her go, and in the end she'd had to bring out the possibility of this 'Hunter' person being connected to Sasakibe's assassination in some way. Yamamoto had agreed quickly after that, and now two days later she was in the human world in a gigai that was her spitting image. She was a few blocks from the restaurant, and decided to walk instead of taking one of the cars-for-hire.

The walk was fairly uneventful, though she had to stave off a plastered hobo asking for spare change at one point, and she arrived within another ten minutes, having noted a vintage shop that she reminded herself to check out later. The line to get into the place, which looked a bit expensive for what was basically an upscale corner cafe, took a bit longer than the actual walk, though the lady manning the booth pointed straight back outside to a table with a white-haired man sitting at it, looking to be in his mid-20s. He was drinking something clear with a slightly yellowish tinge, too thick to be milk from the way it moved in the glass, and she sat down across from him with a look of interest. "The Hunter, yes?"

The man gave her one of the most rakish grins she'd seen in decades off of Zaraki's face, and nodded as he took another sip of whatever it was he was drinking. "At your service," he said, his voice familiar to her but not immediately placeable. "I admit, I wasn't entirely sure you would show up, Captain."

"Nor was I," she responded, settling down. Her hands stayed in her lap, one of them close enough to draw Suzumebachi. Just in case. "What are these 'things' you wanted to talk about?"

He just grinned at her again and motioned towards the menu as he finished off the strange white drink. "In a moment, Miss Soi-Fong. I think I promised you lunch."

Anyone would be able to tell that he was avoiding the question, but she'd neglected breakfast and something good here would help her focus more on the not-quite-interrogation she was ready to unload on him (politely, of course) after the meal. She picked the menu up and looked it over, not really seeing anything that appealed to her, mostly since it was going to be an American doing the cooking. Still, it was truly difficult to screw up a simple sandwich. Lettuce leaves, sliced pig flesh, and sliced tomato between white bread seemed simple enough, and she ate neatly after it arrived. Not something she'd normally consider a healthy meal, but it wasn't as if calories carried over to her spiritual body.

During the wait for the food, and the meal itself, the man sitting across from her entertained her rather well with some moderately witty banter and a joke or two while drinking his way through three more glasses of that white liquid, the nature of which she still wasn't entirely sure of. After she finished her sandwich and water (and he his white-drink and a thin slice of salmon) she got down to talking, probing questions designed to find out who exactly he was while circling around whatever reason he had for requesting a meeting in the first place. He answered openly, painting a colorful picture of an exile to the human world trying for years to find a way to Hueco Mundo to take on the King of Las Noches, of having failed miserably time and again to even make the journey across, until finally hearing from a friend that she had killed the elderly Espada.

"After that," he said with a bright smile, "I knew I had to meet you. I remember you from my time in the Soul Society, but I never got a chance to see you up close and I wanted to thank you face to face for killing him. I can't really go back to the Soul Society, but I've got a few friends I keep in touch with and one agreed to get my note to you. I've been trying to think of a way to show how much I appreciate what you've done, and I think this is pretty much what I've got. I live here in Boston, so if you're ever in the neighborhood and want to stop by, feel free."

Soi smiled then, very lightly, convinced in her own mind of his sincerity, and the conversation moved on to other topics, winding up after perhaps half an hour when 'Hunter' looked down at his watch and frowned. "Sorry to cut things short, but I've an appointment to keep. It was very nice, though."

She nodded to him and got up herself, shaking his hand and smiling before walking away.

It was only after he left that she returned and curiously picked up the glass, sniffing at it. Cream. Huh. Well, she reasoned, everyone had strange habits. If his was drinking something straight that most people used as a seasoning for liquid, it wasn't as bad as some eccentricities she'd seen before. She shrugged and sat the glass back down before genuinely heading off, wondering if an opportunity would arise at some point for her to come to the human world again.

**Chapter 2, Part 3: Blue Alone**

Grimmjow shucked the Gigai once he was out of sight, opening a Garganta and stepping through so he could relax. She was charming, certainly, but still a Shinigami and still the woman that had denied him his revenge. He smiled to himself, imagining how things would play out over the next few months or years, or longer if that was what it took, and then stepped back through into the alleyway that he'd left the Gigai in, possessing it once more and moving off to find a place to rent. He was getting maliciously excited about this plan, and even the prospect of staying in the thin atmosphere of the human world didn't rankle much when laid against his anticipation for the dupe to come. He would build up her image of 'Hunter,' play on her emotions like he had done to so many of the female Numeros, and then when she was primed and perfectly ready he would bring it all crashing down around her.

**Chapter 2, Part 4: Green Faces Black**

Two days previously, when Grimmjow had left the note for his target, Nel had returned to Hueco Mundo. It was obvious that her blue-haired colleague was going to take his time and play with his unknowing food and, having little desire to see someone brought down in such a manner, she returned to her solitude among the sands. She visited Las Noches on rare occasion, but for the most part she enjoyed being with her former Fraccion out away from people.

Ulquiorra, however, stayed, though he moved the entrance of the Garganta to a different vantage point. A place full of fighters, the Japanese symbol for "11" branded on the doors. Their leader, a massive man with a shock of black hair, was evidently ruler-by-conquest, in much the same way Barragan had been in the pre-Aizen days. Ulquiorra found himself wondering, then, how powerful such a man really was. It would have been nothing more than an idle thought two years before, but after the War and his subsequent long recuperation, most of it spent around Grimmjow, he'd acquired a certain appreciation for more physical pleasures. Combat, he accepted now, could be undertaken for reasons other than the swift death of one's opponent. Deciding to take a leaf from the blue-haired ex-Sexta's book, Ulquiorra Schiffer stepped through his Garganta, closed it behind him, and moved towards the barracks that the men below were moving into for the night.

It was child's play to wait on the roof until snoring reverberated from every room, and from there move into the tall man's room. He took note of the sign that said "Zaraki's Pad, if yu dn't got pink hare gedout" as he entered, closing the door softly behind him and folding his hands behind his back in his habitual stance of neutrality as he coughed lightly to wake the large man up. A change in his breathing pattern was all the warning Ulquiorra had before a sword embedded itself in the wall a quarter inch from his cartoid artery. "Y'better got a fuck'n good reason t'wake me up," the shaggy-haired Captain groused as he sat up and stared sleepily at the pale-skinned man in his room. "Damn. First polite assassin I ever seen."

Ulquiorra cleared his throat again, having not moved from his starting position, the sword still vibrating next to his neck. "I will be waiting along the northern edge of the place you call Rukongai tomorrow morning. I should very much like to see how well you fight compared to my previous opponent. Sleep well."

Without giving the taller man time to respond, he turned and left, sliding the door quietly shut behind him and buzzing away in a blur of Sonido towards the appointed meeting place.

That had been two days ago. At the moment, he was engaged in the most exciting fight he had undertaken in... ever. He couldn't recall another fight that had lasted this long, let alone one that he'd enjoyed. He certainly couldn't recall one that had needed to stop for a piss break at one point, but seventeen hours was seventeen hours and one couldn't hold one's bladder back forever.

He was covered in scratches, cuts, bruises, scrapes, and abrasions, his skin liberally pocked with the marks of twenty-nine straight hours of combat. To be fair, Zaraki was doing no better. The man had a hole in his left cheek from where one of Ulquiorra's talons had pierced his face, and was missing two teeth as a result of the same attack, though other than that one rather unique injury his own were rather similar to his winged opponent's. The eyepatch had been torn off almost twenty hours ago, and despite their flaring reiatsu (lost among the general chaos that was normally the 80th North district) they were both getting sluggish, their movements slowing from accumulated blood loss. Even Ulquiorra's blood loss was starting to become noticeable, his high-speed regeneration not able to keep up over such long periods. It took another hour and twenty minutes for Zaraki to collapse, but finally the loss of just under half the blood in his body took its toll and he tripped over nothing in the middle of an attack, sprawling over the ground half-unconscious. Ulquiorra found himself unable to care much that he could make a kill-strike now, despite having taken such opportunities countless times in the past. This time was... different. His opponent had given him enjoyment from a fight, an emotion that he was unfamiliar with regardless of context. "Entertaining," he said reflectively. "I will leave a note with your squad of healers."

He made a Garganta open between their location and the 4th Division barracks, another opening between the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. The one he left would close in an hour or so, plenty of time to get Zaraki into the Urgent Ward. Ulquiorra found himself smiling faintly as he watched healers approach through the gloom within the Garganta mouth, and he wondered at the lightness in his chest. "Entertaining indeed," he muttered to himself as he stepped through the portal leading to the white-sanded desert, closing it behind him and already looking forward to the next fight.

**A/N:** While I don't listen to music often while writing, since it usually distracts me, I believe sometimes that it's good for inspiration. When I find a piece, I'll put it up here if I was writing while it was on.

**Song for this chapter:** Rimsky-Korsakov's _Scheherazade_, performed by the Cleveland Orchestra and conducted by Artur Rodzinski


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